Thus Sken-Pitilkin set work upon his airship; Pelagius Zozimus began a systematic exploration of the culinary possibilities of barley admixed with fish guts; the dwarf Glambrax and the dralkosh Zelafona began the great work of sweeping the streets of Locontareth as public penance for their earlier commercial predations; and Witchlord and Weaponmaster sat in counsel with the Rovac warriors Thodric Jarl and Rolf Thelemite, making preparations for the long winter ahead and the campaigns of the following spring.
But -
The Yarglat barbarian Khmar, the warlord who had swept down from the north to sweep up Gendormargensis, why, Khmar wasted no time on dalliance. As Lord Onosh had already half-suspected, outright war was not long to be avoided. Khmar was a master of mobility, and was in no mood to let his enemies enjoy the luxury of a comfortable winter. So, while Witchlord and Weaponmaster selected out their swansdown duvets, and chose the rosepetal pillows on which they planned to rest the buttocks of their concubines, Khmar launched himself upon a great assault.
Despite the lateness of the season, Khmar advanced downriver from Gendormargensis toward Locontareth, advertising his onslaught by sending heads floating down the river. Each of these heads was nailed to a small raft, and was mutilated in a manner suggestive of the fate which the conqueror Khmar intended to mete out to both Witchlord and Weaponmaster.
Now the Witchlord Onosh and his son Guest Gulkan were in a predicament, for Khmar had won the loyalty of Gendormargensis;
Stranagor's loyalty was uncertain; and, though Locontareth was temporarily loyal, it was weak in the aftermath of the expensive campaigning which had accompanied the tax revolt.
Still, Lord Onosh and Guest Gulkan scraped up what troops they could, and began to organize their defense. Meanwhile, they sent patrols far up the river on both the northern bank and the southern. Thus they had good warning of Khmar's advance, for there was no way for that Yarglat to outflank a screen spread out so broadly and organized with such immaculate professionalism.
The news of Khmar's advance was all bad, at least as far as Witchlord and Weaponmaster were concerned. Khmar's army was large; its morale was good; and it gave a good account of itself in skirmishing with the patrols.
'There is only one thing for it,' said Lord Onosh. 'We must retreat.'
'Very well,' said Guest promptly. 'Then let us pull back to Ibsen-Iktus.'Guest was beginning to have a certain degree of affection for those mountains, the scene of his notable victory over his father. Guest hoped to lure Khmar into those frozen rock-realms, and there to inflict upon the invader a crushing defeat – a literally crushing rockslide defeat. But he was swiftly disabused of this notion.
'The mountains will be too cold this late in the year,' said his father. 'The snow will be deep on the heights already, and those heights impassable by the time he could reach them.'
Whereupon Thodric Jarl came up with a somewhat extravagant scheme of manoeuver. Jarl suggested that they retreat south toward Favanosin, and establish winter quarters for themselves; and then, in the spring, march east to the shores of the Swelaway Sea while Khmar sought them in the south; and then head down the Pig and take Gendormargensis before Khmar knew that they had slipped his clutches.
'The distances are so great and the communications so slow,' said Jarl, 'that we can be months fortifying Gendormargensis and recruiting men before Khmar even knows what we are about.'
Furthermore, went on Jarl, once in Gendormargensis they might be able to send into the northern homelands of the Yarglat to rouse those wild Yarglat tribes which were the enemies of Khmar.
'Thus,' said Jarl, 'when Khmar finally arrives at Gendormargensis to challenge us, he will have been weakened by months of fruitless wandering, while we have a city and the strength to hold it.'
There were a thousand flaws in this plan. Here is one such flaw: Khmar might have left a substantial army to hold Gendormargensis. Here is another: the logistic requirements of the march which Jarl proposed were close to impossible.
But nobody had a better plan.
'It gives us at least the chance of victory,' said the Witchlord Onosh bravely, drawing on a lifetime's experience to give his best possible imitation of confidence, 'which is better than running away.'
So the Witchlord Onosh and his son Guest began planning for the withdrawal to the south, Guest's role in this planning mission being chiefly to say 'yes' and 'why not' and 'I think that's an excellent idea'. For, as the crisis deepened, Lord Onosh had by insensible degrees obtained an almost unconscious ascendancy over his son. This was only natural, for in his early manhood the young Guest Gulkan as yet lacked the experience to grapple with the full complexities of such a crisis, and his wizardly advisers were busy with the control of bread and barley, with the cooking of fish guts and the building of experimental airships.
As this planning got underway, Sken-Pitilkin asked permission to be relieved of his airship labors. But he was told, rather, to hurry himself and get the roof of the great hall air-mobile.
'For,' said Lord Onosh, 'if you can complete and perfect this terror-weapon, then we may yet defeat Khmar here at Locontareth.'Sken-Pitilkin was dubious, but he went to work regardless, and saw to the installation of a great many chairs on the top of the roof, and saw to it that the roof was detached from the walls in accordance with the carpenters' earlier advice, and so was ready to fly.
'How goes the work?' said Lord Onosh, two days before the army was scheduled to retreat south toward Favanosin.
'My lord,' said Sken-Pitilkin mournfully, 'much as I have been looking forward to this great experiment, I regret that the construction of this airship requires another season at a minimum.'
This was a lie, for the thing was more or less ready to fly.
But, though the airship was ready to fly, Sken-Pitilkin was not: in fact, every time he thought about it he broke out in a cold sweat. In proof of his native sagacity, the wizard Sken-Pitilkin had found himself an amenable donkey, and had loaded the brute with bags of barley, with a stash of opium and the answering opium pipes, with bundles of parchments and boxes of books, with a tent, with warm blankets, with foot-warmers, with sleeping bags, with spare pillows, with cushions, with a collapsible armchair, and with other gear of war, and so was ready to foot it toward Favanosin with the army. Though such a march would be harsh, and cold, and direly uncomfortable, Sken-Pitilkin would far rather risk the harsh yet certain dangers of such a withdrawal than chance the lunatic uncertainties of experimental flight.
'Another season!' said the Witchlord, scandalized.
'It is so, my lord,' said Sken-Pitilkin mournfully.
'Then,' said the Witchlord Onosh with a heavy heart, 'we will have to abandon the experiment and retreat on foot.'
And he went to supervise the final preparations for his army's plan to do just that.
But before Witchlord and Weaponmaster could move south with their army, Khmar attacked. Like a billion rabid rats assaulting a sack of sugar, like sharks in their blood-madness assailing a wounded whale, like a great gang of lawyers falling upon a law case, so in the rage of their onslaught did Khmar's brutal barbarians attack the city of Locontareth. Khmar's soldiers came over the city walls by night, using siege ladders and grappling hooks, and before the sentries were properly aware the entire city was filled with shadows which struck with steel and killed.
Before long, the city was burning, most of the fires being set by defenders who sought to stir confusion through arson, hoping to make their escape in that confusion.
But in the ruling hall of Locontareth there was no confusion, only a terrible haste, for under the direction of the wizard Sken Pitilkin the final preparations for flying the roof were being made. Carpenters were checking that the roof was entirely severed from the walls of the hall; mighty warriors were risking the bursting of blood vessels as they winched the Witchlord's treasure chests to the heights; and other warriors were likewise trying to winch upwards Sken-Pitilkin's donkey.
To this scene came the Witchlord himself, in company with Pelagius Zozimus. In honor of the crisis, the slug- chef Zozimus had dressed himself in his famous fish-scale armor, perhaps hoping that he should at least make a well-dressed corpse. The armor reflected the fiery blaze of arson-struck buildings, blood- red and glowering. Padding along behind Zozimus came the dwarf Glambrax, with the sister-witches Zelafona and Bao Gahai bringing up the rear.
When the Witchlord saw Sken-Pitilkin's mightily laden donkey swinging upwards from a winchrope, he stopped
